


Teufelskreis

by ZairaA



Series: Summer Pornathon 2014 [8]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Blood and Violence, Fuck Or Die, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pseudo-Incest, Soul Bond, Still a Lovestory, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:51:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4269204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZairaA/pseuds/ZairaA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur knows what they are doing is against every law of nature, of heaven and earth, but Merlin will always be his to protect. They are connected and he can't leave him to suffer. Unfortunately there are far greater powers at work, and for them Arthur and Merlin are nothing but pawns in a game as old as time itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teufelskreis

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on one of my pornathon entries from last year for Challenge 6: Cycle, but it's acquired quite a bit of plot and is currently a WIP. 
> 
> Eternal gratitude to asya for her beta and encouragement. Thank you, bb! You're the best and I luv u! <3

It was, for all intents and purposes, a rather unremarkable Saturday in November. Afternoon was about to turn into evening and the sky was overcast, threatening rain. A cold wind was chasing leaves and papers over the wet cobblestones, and there was absolutely no indication that anything out of the ordinary was going to happen in the quiet, little alley, just off the riverbank.  
  
The owner of the small antique shop with the fading gold lettering on the dusty windows knew better, though. He could feel the darkness coming, just like he always did, and his anticipation was only surpassed by the worries weighing on his mind.  
  
In the dim light a single lamp cast a soft golden glow over the worn leather armchair he was occupying, giving his blond hair the appearance of a halo. Long fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm on the yellowed page of the book he was holding in his lap, without ever turning one or even looking at the curved black letters. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the front door.  
  
Arthur was waiting. The old grandfather clock was ticking away in the corner, sucking in the seconds like a hungry beast, and he almost startled when it struck, loud and sudden. The knock he had been expecting for the better part of the day came before the last chime had faded in the silence of the room.  
  
Arthur closed his eyes and reached over to pick up his cup, taking another sip while he tried to calm the nervous beat of his heart. Half of him wanted to jump up and run to wrench the door open. The other half just wanted to ignore the visitor outside completely, as he was supposed to. But Arthur knew that ignoring him had never really been an option.  
  
When the knocking turned impatient, he finally put his cup down on the saucer with a clink, rattling the fine bone china in the process. Then he drew a deep breath and pushed himself up from his seat. He straightened his posture and his shirt and even unnecessarily fussed with his hair a little, before he wound his way towards the front of the shop.  
  
Outside, the shadow of a man was lurking, barely visible in the early dusk. Arthur pulled the door open with a jerk, and his visitor – who apparently had been leaning against it quite heavily for support – stumbled over the threshold and straight into Arthur's arms.  
  
''Merlin!''  
  
Arthur sucked in a sharp breath, catching the other almost involuntarily. Merlin had wrapped his long, black coat tightly around himself but that didn't keep him from shivering all over. His skin was even paler than usual, turning his eyes an unnatural, eerie blue.  
  
''You look awful!'' Arthur blurted. His eyebrows pulled into a frown as he tried to hide his worry.  
  
Merlin rewarded him with a heated glare.  
  
''Fuck you, Arthur!'' he hissed, his voice low and raw. ''It hurts, okay? You know it hurts!''  
  
Arthur bit his lip. His trepidation only grew as he studied Merlin's gaunt features. Of course he knew. Merlin wouldn't be here if he wasn't in pain – far greater and different than the one Arthur was suffering – but never before had he looked this ill. Arthur wondered whether this meant that things were regressing, whether their arrangement wasn't helping any longer, but he immediately shied away from the thought, too afraid to consider the consequences.  
  
''Would you like some tea?'' he asked awkwardly after a moment, more for something to say than because he believed that the offer would be appreciated.  
  
As it was, Merlin pulled a face. ''No. If you don't mind, I'd rather just fuck.''  
  
Arthur winced at Merlin's crudeness, but he had to admit it was an apt description of what they had been doing these past months. He knew he was stalling now and when Merlin raised his eyebrows expectantly, he finally sighed and nodded, beckoning him to follow Arthur to the back of the shop and up the stairs.

On the first floor was what Arthur considered his bedroom, simply because there was an actual bed in it, even though he didn't use it much. Merlin normally didn't bother with pleasantries either. He just chucked his clothes wherever it seemed convenient, coaxing Arthur to do the same, tempting him with his warm flesh and the familiar scent of his skin. Today, though, Merlin seemed tired and almost uncertain, so the comfort of a bed might be a good idea.  
  
Arthur went over to the elaborately carved monstrosity of a four-poster, keeping his back turned as he took off his waistcoat and cuff links, folding the first and placing the latter on the bedside table. It wasn't until he slipped out of his shoes, that he realised Merlin was still lingering in the doorway, nervously shifting from one foot to the other. Casting a glance over his shoulder, Arthur raised a questioning eyebrow.  
  
Merlin pulled a face and huffed but finally stepped inside, shrugging off his coat. He dropped the garment to the floor, ignoring Arthur's exasperated grimace, but then hesitated for another moment before he pulled his shirt over his head. As his slender torso was revealed, Arthur saw the reason why: Merlin's whole body was muddled with green and blue and angry stripes of red.  
  
For a moment Arthur was frozen with shock. ''What happened?'' he croaked, his throat constricted with too many emotions he didn't dare to acknowledge.  
  
Merlin shrugged, aiming for casual, but he couldn't suppress a flinch when his every muscle protested the movement. Arthur stepped closer, tentatively reaching out to spread his palms over the worst of the pain buried deeply under Merlin's skin, and Merlin slumped against him with a relieved sigh but kept his face averted.  
  
Arthur swallowed against the heavy lump in his throat. He shouldn't care so much, he knew that, but he couldn't help it. Merlin was his. His to care for and his to protect. Even if Merlin was loathe to admit it, nothing could ever change that.  
  
''Got found out,'' Merlin murmured against Arthur's shoulder. ''My master is not happy with the company I keep.''  
  
Arthur didn't know what to say. What was there to say? Their situation was what it was, unique and without a solution. Instead he let his hands glide over Merlin's skin, gently stroking over the abused flesh, bruises fading under his fingers until they were hardly more than memory.  
  
''You shouldn't do that,'' Merlin reminded him quietly, looking up at Arthur with a weak smile. ''You're not supposed to use your powers on someone like me.''  
  
''I'm supposed to use them to ease people's suffering, and that's what I'm doing,'' Arthur said, his mouth pressing into a stubborn line.  
  
''I'm not people.''  
  
No, you're not, Arthur wanted to say. But you're _mine_ and I won't leave you hurting. He didn't though. Words were not how they did this, and so Arthur grabbed Merlin by the scruff of his neck, pulled up his head and pressed their lips together in an act of defiance and desperation.

Merlin didn't resist, turning pliant instead as he sighed into Arthur's mouth. His hot breath ghosted over Arthur's cheek and down his throat, while long nimble fingers began opening the buttons of Arthur's shirt.  
  
Like always, a small voice in the back of Arthur's head whispered how he shouldn't do this, how it was against every law of nature, of heaven and earth, and the rules he should strive to obey with every fibre of his being. And like always, Arthur closed his eyes, leaned into Merlin, sinking deeper into his heat and silencing any objection his mind might come up with. Merlin needed him, and Arthur would never deny him.  
  
Graceful devil's hands brushed over Arthur's nipples and down his sides, every touch becoming more indecent then the one before, until they wandered lower, hurriedly tugging at Arthur's fly. Arthur pushed Merlin's hands away then, but only to take up the job himself while Merlin shimmied out of his own jeans with a few wiggles of his arse.  
  
Before, Arthur had never spared much thought on Merlin's beauty. Vanity was a sin, after all, and there was beauty in every one of His creations. But now Arthur couldn't help but look. Admire Merlin's lithe form, the elegance of his long neck, the contrast of his pale skin and dark hair. The desire to touch became almost frightening, and when Merlin finally gave in to his need and pulled him closer with a moan, Arthur was lost.  
  
Arthur let himself be dragged to the bed while still trying to hold back, lest the fires of lust burn him to ashes. It wasn't the same for him. Their separation didn't hurt him in the same way it tortured Merlin, not while he was in His presence. But being with Merlin, touching him, was the only time Arthur felt truly complete now. It always made him wonder how close he was to falling as well, teetering on the brink of the abyss, with Merlin like a millstone around his neck, pulling him down.  
  
They stretched out on the cool sheets, both of them naked now, and soon Merlin was riding him with the abandon of a martyr, a sinner turned saint, and so beautiful that Arthur could hardly bear to look at him.  
  
As he tightened around Arthur on the brink of pleasure, Merlin's wings broke forth, spreading out like midnight and reaching up to the heavens in a helpless cry. Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin's torso while he pushed into him even more forcefully, desperately seeking that one moment of unity that should have been theirs for all of eternity.  
  
The moment of release was blinding and a little like Arthur imagined death might feel. His own wings unfolded, bright like the first snow of winter and ablaze with a heavenly light of grace that was swallowed up by the dark, velvet depths that surrounded him like an embrace.  
  
Coming down, Merlin's fingers dug painfully into the muscle of Arthur's broad shoulders. His head was bowed, his face pressed into the crook of Arthur's neck, and Arthur could feel him tremble where they were still connected. When Merlin opened his eyes, they were tinged with the fire of what he had become, and for one moment Arthur could see the true depth of Merlin's anguish. Before he could think about it, Arthur pressed a kiss to Merlin's forehead.  
  
It was a benediction, a secret mark to sooth the painful longing - until it turned too great and Merlin would come knocking again. Merlin's lips curved into a smile and the familiar beauty of it cut Arthur right through the soul. The smile was angelic, and completely inappropriate for the demon who wore it.

 

Later, Arthur leaned against the head of the bed, the sheets around him crumpled and smelling of their desperation and desire. It was an earthly scent and Arthur could have erased it with a wave of his hand. Instead he watched Merlin as he picked up his clothes, completely unashamed in his nakedness, and then slowly got dressed.

''You shouldn't mark me such,'' he said, not looking at Arthur. ''I think they can smell it.''

Arthur raised an eyebrow. ''And what we just did? They can't smell that?''

Merlin threw a look at him over his shoulder and his smirk was truly devilish now. ''The scent of fucking will hardly raise any suspicion, but the blessing you gave me certainly would, should it be detected.''

''Then you better go and wallow in a sink of iniquity,'' Arthur snapped, rolling out of bed, and reached for his own trousers.

Merlin didn't answer, but Arthur could feel his glare like an angry blaze on his neck and he grit his teeth against the surge of guilt and grief. He knew Merlin hadn't chosen this. His fall from grace had not been a conscious decision. He didn't plan and plot his demise. And yet sometimes Arthur thought it had been a long time coming.

From the moment they existed, Merlin had been an unusual angel. He and Arthur were moulded from the same form, brothers made to protect and fight alongside each other, as it was done. Two halves that made a whole, their souls so interwoven that it was impossible to find the divide, because they were not meant to be divided.

And yet they could not have been any more different. It wasn't just that Arthur had the golden hair and strong features that once had inspired the likes of Michelangelo, while Merlin was gangly, with hair the colour of the night, and a strange, almost fey-like beauty. Arthur was cool and collected, where Merlin was emotional and impulsive. Merlin was full of warmth and kindness, with a talent for healing, while Arthur,was driven by duty and honour, fighting – often quite literally - for the greater good, for humanity and the precarious balance that held the world back from catastrophe.

Merlin had always been an unusual angel. Right up until he wasn't one any more.

 

  
_The smell of human blood hangs heavy in the air, sweet and metallic, clogging at the back of Arthur's throat. The bodies strewn around them are still warm, the souls that have been ripped away from them a faint echo in the room. There's no one left alive, the only beating heart is that of the man who butchered these innocents. And he_ is _a man. Not a demon as they had come to believe. Just a mortal with a soul as black as a pitch._

_Arthur takes a deep breath and turns away. This is outside their reference and jurisdiction; mortals are for Him to judge, to grace with forgiveness or strike down with punishment. All they can do is report this and try to guide the tortured, frightened souls of the victims towards relief and salvation._

_Instead, Arthur feels as if a hand made of fire is suddenly plunged into his guts, pulling and shredding him from the inside out._

_And the last heart in the room stops beating._

_Arthur drops to his knees with a helpless, horrified moan._

_''No... please... Merlin... what did you do?''_

_He looks up and sees Merlin standing over the man's body in a pool of blood, his flaming sword hanging limply from his hand. Arthur thinks that, surely, this must be a fever dream, a vision, anything but reality._

_Then the first feather falls._

_Arthur, still on his hands and knees, shakes his head in denial. His heart is frozen with terror as he watches its slow decent towards the blood-covered floor. Merlin just stares at him with blank, empty eyes. His hands are red up to his elbows. More feathers fall, covering the floor and getting sullied and smeared with the clotting blood as well._

_''No..._ No! _Merlin!''_

_Merlin slowly curls in on himself. The bones of his wings are showing and he is deathly pale. Arthur scrambles towards him, paying no heed to the bloody mess on the floor in his need to reach Merlin, to touch him in an attempt to keep him together, keep him from disintegrating right in front of Arthur's eyes. Merlin shudders and convulses, his body listing towards Arthur, but he doesn't react to his pleading whispers in any other way._

_Arthur can't say how much time they spend huddled on the floor in the midst of human carnage. Eons. Seconds. It's all the same. Meaningless._

_He flinches and instinctively pulls Merlin closer when, with a swoosh and the scent of lightning, a column of fire appears next to them. As archangel's come, Guinevere is one of the less arrogant and ruthless, but there's no sign of mercy in her eyes now. She stands tall and fierce in her armour, holding out her hand to Arthur in a silent command._

_''Come with me, Arthur,'' she says when Arthur doesn't move._

_He shakes his head. ''Merlin,'' he croaks. ''You have to help him.''_

_Her arm strikes through the air, cutting off his protest. A dismissal that sends sparks flying from her gauntlet. ''There's nothing any of us can do,'' she says, and her voice rings cold and free of emotion. ''Your brother is lost.''_


End file.
